A Shieldmaiden's Soup
by WorldNerd12
Summary: Aragorn was not the first to taste Éowyn's soup. That poor brother of hers...


_Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Lord of the Rings_

**A Shieldmaiden's Soup**

"Stop that nonsense, Éowyn! You are a Lady of Rohan, not a lowly peasant hitting some wooden pole with sticks!" Lady Fionn cried, jerking the fake sword for Éowyn's tiny hands. "'Tis time for your cooking lessons."

"But I despise cooking, Lady Fionn," the small girl complained, lunging for her fake sword. Though only eight years old, Éowyn had already started her lessons in a plethora of subjects: sewing, cooking, literature, language… All but swordplay. No matter how much she begged, they would not let her practice with her older brother, Éomer. "Please, Lady Fionn! Don't make me go back to that horrid kitchen," she pleaded, gripping Lady Fionn's skirt.

Lady Fionn gently but firmly caught Éowyn's wrist in her grip and pulled her towards Meduseld, clicking her tongue at her. "And what did the pole ever do to you?" she admonished, taking in the nearly destroyed post in the stable. The shallow gashes of the wood were not large, but she still wondered at the pent-up energy Éowyn had unleashed on the post.

Little Éowyn, however, had taken Lady Fionn's remark as a compliment and drew herself up proudly. "Éomer has gone with Théodred, and I needed a practice partner."

Lady Fionn stared with horror at the disfigured post. She would have to have a word with the King about how his niece spent her time with the other members of the House of Eorl. If Éomer had let his sister run around with the insane notion that she would eventually wield a sword and ride to meet the forces of the East, it wouldn't take long for the imaginative and clever girl to try to turn those thoughts into reality.

"Come, Éowyn! We must hasten; Drieda is waiting for us. You will help her make the soup for dinner tonight! The joy, child!" Lady Fionn said.

At these words, Éowyn dug her heels into the dirt and crossed her arms, scowling at her teacher. "But I want to fight like Éomer and Théodred! I'm going to need the practice."

Lady Fionn sighed. "No, Éowyn, you will not. You're place is with the rest of the women. That is why you must work hard in your lessons, not let your mind dream up childish fantasies that will never come true. Now come!"

Fighting and squirming, Éowyn resisted her teacher with everything she had, but in the end, it was for naught. She still stood in the middle of the bustling kitchen of the palace, Lady Fionn guarding the doorway to prevent an escape. Éowyn glared at her, but her teacher would not budge.

"Lady Éowyn, my dear child!" Drieda, a plump and kindly woman, cried in welcome. "You are lucky, child. My daughters have already prepared the broth and beef. You and I shall have the fun part!"

Drieda guided her over to the large pot sat in the hearth, a delicious stew frothing back and forth. Éowyn grabbed a spoon, ready to taste it, but Drieda had it from her hands in a flash.

"None of that, my lady. Your job is not to eat it, silly girl! I have the spices and seasonings laid out already. You should add…" As Drieda rambled off the instructions, Éowyn's mind drifted. How she envied her brother! She longed to have her sword back in her hands, whapping the wood on whatever she could hit, but alas, she was stuck here in this boiling dungeon that she hated so.

"…and don't forget to stir it as well, Lady Éowyn," Drieda finished, placing the spoon back in her hand. "Now I shall be back in forty minutes, and if the soup is not finished by tonight, none of Meduseld will have food."

Éowyn yelped. "But Drieda! Everyone else is also cooking. Why make me the one responsible?"

Drieda smiled. "Because I do not want you running off, little lady. Now hurry! Only two hours 'til the sun sets." She then disappeared back into the throng of women slicing, trimming, or stirring.

Éowyn stood in the middle of the kitchen with her spoon. What did Drieda want again? She said to add the seasoning, but which one? She stared at the intimidating cupboard, glancing at one of the women and hoping that one would provide a clue as to what she should do.

Over in the corner, she spotted a girl several years her senior adding little jars of wonderful-smelling spices, occasionally stirring it in. What had Drieda said – to stir as well? Éowyn looked once again at the cupboard. She needed to be careful which one she chose since Éomer had warned her that people hid poison in plain sight sometimes.

Sugar! Éowyn giggled as she spotted the jar on the counter. Surely Drieda wouldn't object? Everybody loved sugar. And over there – cinnamon! Oh, this was going to be so easy! She might have even some time to play with Théodred and Éomer.

Taking both of the jars, Éowyn emptied the entire contents of both the sugar and cinnamon into the soup, and it bubbled joyfully while Éowyn stirred it in. Oh, how she loved the smell of cinnamon.

As soon as the last of the sugar had dissolved into the broth, Éowyn raced over to where Lady Fionn was standing guard. She looked down at the small Lady of Rohan, whirling around and caught up in her merriment.

"I am finished, Lady Fionn!" Éowyn said happily, "My lessons are done for the day!"

She pushed past her into the halls that had only just begun to feel like home. Through the high windows, the sun was starting to set, and Éowyn needed to find her brother and cousin. They wouldn't be finished with Éomer's practice yet, would they? And Théodred had been the least opposed to her learning to fight. Surely they wouldn't mind.

She could spot them in the distance, Éomer laying in the grass once again while Théodred helped him up. Her brother once again attacked Théodred, but her cousin was much older and much more experienced with the blade; Éomer was back on the ground in less than thirty seconds.

"Éomer!" Éowyn yelled out, running over the grass to reach them. Théodred smiled as she approached, his eyes twinkling, but her brother groaned at the sight of her.

"Not now, Éowyn!" he said. "I am famished today and have no wish to play orcs with you. I am hungry!"

Éowyn pouted. "But Éomer, you promised."

"I am tired and hungry!" he reiterated, sheathing the sword the King had only just started to let him use.

"What if you were to eat? Then could we practice?"

Éomer's eyes lit up. "Is the dinner ready right now?"

Éowyn nodded. "Yes, brother, I had to help make it. It's in the kitchen-" He started running towards the kitchen before she could finish, and Éowyn quickly followed, leaving their older cousin to walk back to Meduseld alone while the two children raced to Drieda's realm.

"Brother, wait!" she cried as she pounded her short legs across the ground to keep up with Éomer, but she was at a severe disadvantage, and by the time she had reached Éomer, he had paused at the entrance to the Golden Hall, glancing around in a way Éowyn was familiar with. The last time the both of them had come running through Meduseld, several of the advisors had looked upon them with disapproval, including the most intimidating of them all, the tall and pale Gálmód, son of Gérdod.

Éomer walked as quickly as he could without attracting attention, and Éowyn padded after him in her worn but soft leather boots, her pale golden hair fluttering slightly behind her. Her uncle was too preoccupied hovering over a table with some boring old maps with Gamling, but Gálmód noticed the both of them, and Éowyn shuddered under his hard, stern gaze. Ahead of her she saw Éomer duck his head to avoid him.

Finally the siblings were past the Golden Hall and sliding down the banister to the kitchens. If Lady Fionn had seen Éomer do that, she would have given him a stern talking to, but if she had caught Éowyn acting just like her brother, she would have gone mad with fury at the improperness she had displayed.

The clatter of knives and babble of old women gossiping reached Éowyn's youthful ears. Her brother ignored the surprised look on several of the young girls and made his way to the boiling soup sitting in the hearth. Éomer eagerly reached for the spoon and scooped the soup into his mouth.

Éowyn watched Éomer's face slowly morph from one of enthusiasm to one of absolute disgust faster than one of the _mearas _racing across the plains. He spat out the soup and seized a goblet of water one of the young girls was about to pour into her own food preparations, guzzling it.

"By Béma, Éowyn! What did you put in this foul stew?"

Éowyn only held up the empty jars of sugar and cinnamon in response.

**Want to review? I would love it if you could because I was planning on writing a much longer fic for Éowyn and Éomer's life up until the end of the War of the Ring, and I would love to hear how my first LotR fanfic was. Please?**


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